A Story‎

Installment One

“I’m telling you, brother to brother, people are going to remember.”
“I don’t think so. With time, people move on with their lives.”
“You peed your pants at the end-of-year school assembly, in front of all your classmates. You were supposed to be doing the half-court challenge.”
“Bladder problems run in the family. Mom said that no one really cares about anyone but themselves these days anyway, and I’m inclined to agree.”
“That may be true, but people still say callous things without any reason other than the fact that it springs to their minds, and they make a connection that will somehow validate their sense of being, whatever form that takes.”

Ethan Tracy and his younger brother Philip were sitting outside on the back porch in the cool air of late summer, relaxing in white plastic chairs. Their dad, not too far away, was working on the grill, earphones on, listening to old bossa nova tunes.

“Anyway, that was in Middle School. I’m going to be a freshman this year, so I’m not too worried,” said Philip.
“I admire your nerves of steel. I was terrified a couple years ago when I became a freshman. It took a while to adjust to the expansion of my liberties, if you get my meaning.”
“Not really.”
“It’s just that there’s more to do and see and learn, and then outside of class, you might discover there’s more choices than those presented by whomever. You have to seek out your own path,” said Ethan cryptically.

Mr. John Tracy placed the pork chops on a large plate. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, but skinny. He had short, curly blond hair. Ethan inherited the curly hair and broad shoulders, but he was slightly overweight, while Philip inherited more from his mother side with brown hair and a sharp countenance.

“Dinner’s ready, go on inside and help your mom and sister set the table,” he said.
“Sure thing,” said Ethan.
Philip nodded.

The Tracys were an orderly, middle-class family who followed the Christian faith, although only attending church at the major events in the Lutheran calendar, namely Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter. They lived in a medium-sized town named Carlisle some 140 miles southwest of Chicago, not too far away from Peoria. It was a typical midwestern town, having a number of elementary schools, a middle school and a high school, as well as a Megamart and your typical franchised and “ma and pa” restaurants and businesses.

The dinner table was set, and the Tracys began their evening meal, with topics ranging from the upcoming school year, to some squabbles over politics, to concern over their oldest, Sylvia, who was having a tough time during the summer, having few friends in Carlisle, but many at college.

“I never really liked this town anyway,” said Sylvia.
“You thought it was alright growing up, you just didn’t connect intellectually with anyone,” Her mother, Nancy, replied.
“What about Abigail? You used to always hang around each other,” said Mr. Tracy.
“She’s been away for the summer in Greece. I’m just looking forward to my return to Dundee College. Only one more week.”
“That’s right,” said Ethan, “The end of summer quickly approaches, and a new school year is nigh!” They all looked at him.
Philip broke the silence. “Ethan still insists I’ll be made fun of.”
“It happens to the best of us,” chimed in Mr. Tracy.
“Did you pee your pants in an absurdly public and embarrassing manner?”
“I’m hardly the best.”

They finished their dinner, and each member of the household went on with their activities, the brothers playing video-games, Sylvia watching a movie on a laptop, and the parents watching TV in the living room.

Across town, in a strip mall, was situated a family-owned tea shop called “The Tea Huis” getting ready to close for the night. The owners were Belgian and along with tea they sold an assortment of fine chocolates and stroopwafels. Their fourteen year old daughter, Becca Abbink, a skinny brunette with bold facial features, was cleaning the front desk and doing this and that to get the shop ready for tomorrow’s operations. It was raining outside. There were a few people sitting at the tables finishing their tea. Smooth jazz music was playing softly in the background. The front door opened, and in entered a young man, a regular, by the name of Brent Paulsen. He was wearing a hooded windbreaker jacket, and was tall but unassuming, with short black hair, and a lanky demeanor.

“Hi, Brent,” Becca said, as he made his way to the front desk.
“Hello. 300 grams of your afternoon Darjeeling tea,” he said, in a tired voice.
“Sure thing, everything alright?”
“Just the usual. I’m not looking forward to school starting.”
“Is the High School that bad?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s not that. Other things…” he trailed off.

Becca busied herself with putting a pack of the tea into a cloth bag, and sealing it with a nylon string.

“It’s your last year, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, my time to shine has finally approached. Maybe I can keep the grades up and get into a state college next year. Although I don’t really like the idea of college. Maybe an apprenticeship or something,” he said.
“What’s your idea of college?”
“Having to fake it, school pride and spirit, frat and sorority houses, and this social criteria of who does or doesn’t fit into the system. It’s expensive too.”
“I hope this tea cheers you up.” She said brightly.
“Thanks, yeah, it always does. Sorry to bother you while you’re closing. Have a nice night.” Brent said as he lumbered out into the rain.

The other guests eventually made their way out as well, and Becca went back into the office where her mother and father were discussing something in Belgian Dutch.

“Everyone’s out. How long until we can go home?” asked Becca.
“Give us twenty minutes.” Her father said.

Becca made herself a cup of chamomile tea, and sat in one of the patron seats, and looked out the window, the rain falling at a pleasant steady pace, as if it was an ordained sacred washing, and she looked forward to being “there” out in it, water and mist, cars sloshing by and piercing the clouded night with their headlights, and she would separate herself mentally from such machines, and look up into the sky and spread her arms upward, reaching out.

Sally Rosenthal was trying to improve her chess skills with a computer chess engine. It was an interesting bit of software that taught her the mistakes she was making as she played. She started High School in a week and there was a chess club that intrigued her because she wanted to make friends, but also chess was always been something out of reach for her, and she wanted to pull it close to her, until she understood the sort of mind-frame it required. She made a lot of mistakes, but she was growing. In Middle School, she was a nobody, slightly chubby, freckled and overall an awkward young woman. She did have one good friend, but she felt she wasn’t quite “there”. She had looked into Borderline Personality Disorder online, and the evidence was damning, but Sally tried to think the best of her, even if she was unstable, and maybe it wasn’t a disorder that was encompassing her friend, but something at home, or away from it.

Her friend wasn’t interested in chess so there she was, her head glued to the monitor, trying to figure out the essence of the knight piece. She started to daydream about her past crushes. All handsome young men, but they didn’t give her any attention. Not that she really expected it. She didn’t think she was ugly; plain maybe. She was sure chess wasn’t the portal to their hearts, so she let go of those dreams. She tried to concentrate. The Knight was the only piece with indirect movements, giving it an unpredictable attribute. She decided she would master the Knight, and that would be the key to the rest of her game. She was still learning.

Sally moved away from her computer and looked out the window. A gloomy night with unceasing rain. She could hear the water flowing in the gutters above her window. She looked back at her room, sizing it up, and trying to notice any disorder. She always kept her room spotless, and she had an eye for seeing things that shouldn’t be there, so she was naturally surprised to find a very old, large book lying on her night desk. Its appearance was inexplicable to her, so she fidgeted a little bit, and then fainted.

When she came to, it was still there. Sally moved toward the book, and looked at the cover: “Formulas for Success”
Maybe her dad had brought it into the room when she was concentrating on her chess game. She was too tired to look further and set it aside among her other books.

It was the first day of the school year for Carlisle High School. Ethan drove his sedan and found a parking spot. He went off to talk to his friends, leaving Philip to go to his locker, noticing some people smirking at him while he made his journey. He was the quiet sort, kept to himself, maintained equilibrium. The behavior of other people didn’t bother him, as much as having to react in some way to a situation beyond his control. Someone patted him on the back and asked, “How’s it going?.” Philip turned around to find Becca Abbink smiling at him.

“Did you have a good summer?” she asked.

Being the same year, Philip and Becca were good friends.

“It’s going alright. Summer was decent. I was about to head to my first class, Geometry.”
“That’s nice,” she said, “I’m sure no one remembers the assembly thing.”
Philip sighed.
“Do we have any classes together?” asked Philip.
They compared schedules and found they shared Biology and Study Hall.
“Cool, See you in Biology.” Becca went off to her own locker, and Philip headed to his first class.

It was an old High School, with some abandoned classrooms, outdated science and technology equipment, a small cafeteria, and poor air conditioning. Students had the option of leaving the high school during lunch time to dine at the town’s restaurants and fast food joints. Philip met up with Becca at a long standing establishment called Country House. Bland name and decor, but the food was inexpensive and tasted good.

They both decided High School wasn’t all that different from Middle School, except the reins were a little looser. Philip was starting to understand Ethans’s idea of liberty here, but in the back of his mind he knew his brother meant something different.

As they were eating, Becca noticed Brent enter the restaurant, and beckoned him over. He looked distraught about something.

“You don’t happen to know a Sally Rosenthal, by any chance?”
“Uh yeah, she’s in our grade, kind of quiet,” answered Philip, “Why do you ask?”
“She has something of mine, I think.”
“Sally’s locker isn’t too far away from mine. Do you want me to say something to her?” asked Philip.
“Just tell her I’m looking for her about a book.”
“What sort of book?” inquired Becca.
“It’s nothing. Sentimental value.”

Before they could ask more questions, Brent bid them farewell and left in a hurry.

“Weird.” said Becca.

They finished their meal and headed back to the High School to resume their studies, both wondering about Brent and his book.

After the school day had ended with the final bell, Philip tried to find Sally, but she had already left. He and Becca decided to walk to Sally’s house as she didn’t live far from the High School. Becca had been there before for her 8th grade graduation party. She rang the doorbell, and after a few seconds Sally came to the door with a surprised look on her face.

“Hello,” She said.
“Hi Sally, we don’t know each other very well, but someone told us something about a book, so we’re investigating.” Becca said.
“What book?”
“Brent said it was very old and large.”
“Oh that. I don’t know how it got to me but I tried to read some of it.”
“Tried?” asked Philip.
“Yes, it’s complete nonsense with a lot of diagrams and graphs that I can’t make heads or tails of.” “Can we look at it?” Asked Becca brightly.

Sally let them in and they followed her upstairs to her bedroom.

“Your room is so nice and tidy!” Becca said.
“Thank you,” replied Sally, growing crimson, “The book is over there.”

They all perused the book together, and none of them could make sense of it.

“Maybe it’s like the Voynich manuscript. No one has deciphered it and most scholars agree it’s a practice in language fabrication,” said Philip. “I don’t know why Brent would have something like this. Who is he anyway, Becca? Seems a little shady.”

“Oh he’s alright. He’s always at the tea shop reading something.”

The door bell rang.

“I’ll get it, make yourselves comfortable.” said Sally, with a slight smile on her face.

A few minutes passed, and Sally arrived back to her room with Brent in tow.

“Oh, you found it. Mind if I take it back?”
“Why does Sally have the book in her room?” asked Becca.
“That’s a difficult question to answer. It’s a book on metaphysics among other things.”

Then Brent sighed and sat down on the bed next to the others.

“I would like to explain more, but I have to talk it over with the others.”
“The others?” asked Becca.
“Philip, you’re Ethan’s brother, right?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a member of the group. Let’s meet somewhere tomorrow after school. How about Belmont Park around 7 PM?”
“All of us?” asked Sally.
“If you want.”
“Okay.”

School had just finished the next day, and Sally was occupying her time before the meeting with chess strategy. “So the knight is special in that instead of taking a direct course, it can ‘move through’ and take out the opponents piece.” Her first chess club was the next day after school, but she had a hard time focusing on anything other than that old book and the knight. “The knight can ‘move through’”.

She didn’t know Becca and Philip very well, but she was excited, yet nervous to be a part of something. Her ponderings over the sudden appearance of the book was taking her mind to the metaphysical, but she preferred the concrete way of things, generally, or at least that was how she was raised. Maybe this group were art performers, creating illusions to confuse freshmen. But that didn’t make sense either, so she gave up thinking about it, and decided she would go with the flow, like Laozi.

Philip had mentioned earlier at her locker that Ethan would pick the three of them all up in his sedan for the group meeting. Ethan was a handsome Junior, out of her league, though of course. She switched her mind over to chess. She examined the bishop, with the groove in it’s cap, which supposedly represented an elephant’s tusk in the far past. She looked up all the variants of chess: Shogi in Japan, Chaturanga in India, Sittuyin in Myanmar.

Sally had never traveled much in her life. She had never been outside the United States, but she been on a few vacations in Florida and Texas. She found herself being bitten by the travel bug as she browsed the web, looking at pictures of India and Myanmar. Such poor countries, but who was she to say that? Maybe in college she would study abroad.

She lost track of time, and suddenly heard the door bell ring.

The sedan pulled into Belmont Park just before 7 PM. There was a group of people sitting around a picnic table. No one else seemed to be at the park. Philip only recognized Brent out of the three of them gathered there. Brent got up and motioned them over. “Welcome to the group, Philip,” he heard Ethan say. He introduced the two others at the table beside Brent.
“This is Ariel Mathers. She’s a sophomore. Really good at tennis.”
“And this is Linus Elbe. He’s a junior originally from Sweden.”

They all said hello and shook hands.

“As you probably know, I’m Brent Paulsen, the leader of the group, if you want to call it that.” “Have you been enjoying your Darjeeling tea?” Asked Becca.
“I have, thank you. As I was just about to tell the the others, it was the Templar Spirit involved in the book transfer.”
“I’m not dealing with him again,” said Linus.
“You don’t have to. We finished the contract by bringing in the new members.”

Philip coughed politely.
“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?”

“Well, they don’t really have names. We give them names that suit them, Templar being key here.” said Linus.
“Templar?”
“Use of intelligence and strength to pick apart foes, and also to build an army or group to stand for justice in a correct, organized fashion. It’s a good name, I think. It’s all in the book.” They looked at the old book sitting on the middle of the table.

Philip said, “I don’t believe in magic or spirits.” Becca was biting one of her fingernails. Sally was just sitting there with a blank look on her face.

Ethan laughed softly.

“I believe in angels.” said Sally. Brent looked at her intensely for a moment.

Philip felt uncomfortable and suggested that they were being pranked. He was tired of feeling embarrassed and utterly dejected, and not in control of his own emotions or whatever was going on with his mind and body in this awkward phase of his life.

Ariel looked into her backpack and brought out a small, plain wooden box. She opened it and from a padded interior brought out a unique figure made of multi-colored glass. The figure was fused into a latticed glass sphere. It looked like something out of one of Philip’s books on sacred geometry. Specifically, it reminded him of a Hildegard Von Bingen painting called “Universal Man”. Ariel placed the figure on the table. She lifted her hands up into the darkening sky, and back down again, cradling the glass piece, until multi-colored light shone forth from it. Light shone from the middle of Ariel’s forehead, and then she closed her eyes, and covered the piece completely, until everything was back to normal. The process only took about thirty seconds, but Philip had never seen something so beautiful, and he looked at Ariel with curiosity, her pale face still glowing seemingly, and her raven black hair moving softly in the slight breeze.

“He’s resting.” She said.

It was nearing midnight, and Brent pulled into the driveway of his grandfather’s house, which was on the outskirts of town in a wooded area. He entered the house and looked into his grandfather’s bedroom, but he wasn’t in there. He called out for him.

“In the workshop!” came a yell from another part of the house.

Brent entered the workshop and found his grandfather working on a glass sculpture.

“Oh, you’re busy, I won’t bother you.”
“That’s alright. I was about to take a break.”

Both of them were night owls. Mr. Theodore Paulsen was Brent’s paternal grandfather who had taken him in when he was kicked out of his parents’ house. There had been arguments over religion that Brent ended up regretting. His grandmother had passed away when he was seven from breast cancer. He had fond memories of her, but that’s all they were now, memories.

They walked through the hallways of the ranch-style house and entered the kitchen. His grandfather was in his early eighties, but still had some youthful vigor to him. He was a glass sculpture artist, which required some physical strain as well as precision. He had long ago retired from a career in law, so the sculptures were mainly to keep his mind and body fit.

“Should I make some tea?” Mr. Paulsen asked.
“Sure.” Brent answered.
“What are you in the mood for?”
“How about the moonlight white tea I got a couple weeks ago at The Tea Huis?”
“One of my favorites.”

His grandfather put water in an electic kettle and brought out an old teapot with an infuser from the cupboard. Brent handed him the bag of tea and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Supposedly it’s been aged seven years. In China, the saying goes, three years: fine tea, in seven: heavenly treasure.”
“Did Becca tell you that? How is she by the way?” asked Mr. Paulsen.
“Yeah she did. She’s like her normal happy self. She was at the group meeting tonight.”
“I see,” he said.

The electric kettle beeped and Mr. Paulsen poured water into the teapot. They waited in silence for a few minutes, then Brent’s grandfather sat at the table with the teapot and poured the tea into two mugs.

“So what’s the next phase?” asked Brent.
“I’ll let you know when you’re ready.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a time.

“Do you have the book?” his grandfather asked.
“It’s in my bag. I’ll go get it.”

Brent left the room, came back with the dusty volume and placed it on the table.

“It’s a magical book, you see. It belongs in both the physical world and the metaphysical. It’s been enchanted with language obfuscation, but I can make the book more readable.” said Mr. Paulsen.

His grandfather took the book, laid both hands on top of it, and suddenly his eyes were white as he looked upward, almost as if recollecting a memory, but he stayed like that for some time, until he returned to normal, looked at Brent thoughtfully for a moment, relaxed himself, and took a drink of his tea. He turned to a a page in the book and marked it.

“This really is great tea. Can you read the page I marked?” his grandfather asked.

Brent turned to the marked page.

‘Upon Completion of the Contract.’

“You did well in finding Sally Rosenthal and the others. The group was chosen by the order of this book, and the book comes from generations of wisdom from seers and enchanters, who all put something of themselves in it. Most importantly, it was made with love and great care. Please share this idea with the new members, as they are likely confused, even though the templar chose them for a reason. What that reason is, however, I can’t say for sure.”

Mr. Paulsen took his leave and went back into the workshop, leaving Brent feeling weightless and bogged down at the same time. He drank more of his tea, and started reading.

Installment Two

The next school day, Philip, Becca, and Sally met Brent at the Country House during lunch to try to get some answers. The previous evening on the way home from the park, Ethan had kept quiet about what was going on, saying to just let it unfold, whatever that meant. Philip started to look at his older brother from a new perspective. He thought he knew him pretty well, but that had changed, and now he was an enigma. The people at the park still felt like strangers, and he didn’t know what it meant to be a new member, or what it entailed.

“So the contract bit,” Brent was explaining, “My grandfather used to be a lawyer so he can be a little formal. I’d prefer to call it a mutual agreement towards a certain end. It’s all voluntary.”

He surveyed each of them nonchalantly.

“What exactly do you do with these spirits?” asked Becca.
“That’s hard to explain unless you’ve tapped into one of the enchanted items my grandfather makes.” “He’s an enchanter?”
“Yes, as am I. We’re seers and enchanters. Our purpose is built upon the item and its connection to the corresponding form that we see and understand through a unique vision. The intention and resulting product must be suitable for the seer to make the connection. The fragility of the glass object, although mixed with durable material, means care must be taken, as you take care of your body and mind, and your friends and family.”
“Then what happens after the item is enchanted?” asked Philip.
“Each case is different and isn’t technically connected to this land or the town and it’s inhabitants. You see, there’s other worlds. And the spirit’s need may be more dire.”
“I’d prefer to stay in this world,” said Sally.

Philip looked at her and nodded in agreement, noticing a look of fear on her face.

Brent answered, “That’s fine. It’s a more advanced practice anyway, requires a lot of focus and steadfastness. I’m still working on it.”

“Well, I have chess club every Wednesday after school, so can the group work around that?” asked Sally. “We’re not that structured. Let loose a little bit, and it will be easier to make progress, if you’re still interested in being a member,” Brent said.
“Oh, I still want to be a member. Just thought I’d mention it.”

There was a lack of good vibrations as they finished lunch and went back to school. Philip wasn’t sure what to make of Brent. He seemed like a nice guy, though burdened by some sort of pain. He could see it in his eyes. He liked Sally for her genuine demeanor, and Becca had always been a good friend. It had been a weird first few days of school. At least he had some sort of answer to what he saw Ariel doing with the glass object. Thinking back on it, it really was a beautifully crafted object. It must have been made by a master glass artist.

The school day ended, and things seemed normal again as Sally went to chess club, Ethan and Philip went home, and Becca started a shift at The Tea Huis. She didn’t mind working for her father and mother, and she genuinely liked the atmosphere of the shop and her various duties. There was a Chinese Gong-Fu Cha ceremony scheduled which she loved more than most things. Rather than serving tea in a teabag, or in the English High tea style, Gong-fu Cha (Which meant skilled tea brewing), used a multitude of little pots, pitchers, and cups, to drink tea in all it’s essence by using short brew times and small vessels, and more steeps. The steep times ranged from 5 seconds to a minute. So it was natural for everyone to be at ease as they drank and asked Becca questions which she was happy to answer. She usually recommended an oolong or puerh tea for these occasions because of their complex flavor profiles.

She had to wait two hours for the ceremony so in the meantime she read a magazine at the counter while she waited for customers. Her mind wandered to the group she was in. It was so exciting. She loved that a new world was opening up to her. She had always felt like a bit of an outsider, being the daughter of Belgian immigrants. She did have a lot of friends, but none of them were that close. Philip was probably the closest to having a best friend, but thinking on it, it sounded kind of childish. He had his own worries that she wasn’t included in. As she was refilling some of the tea containers, a customer entered the shop. It was Ariel Mathers.

“Hello,” she said.
“Hi there, I’m so happy to see you!” Becca said.
“Thanks. Is there a tea you would recommend for calming the nerves?” asked Ariel in a tired voice. “Chamomile is always my answer for relaxation.”
“Then I’ll have a cup of that. Do you use boiling water?”
“We have a temperature controlled kettle. I know the perfect temp for chamomile. You can wait at one of the tables and I’ll bring it to you when it’s done.”
“Thank you!”

After a few minutes Becca went to Ariel’s table, gave her the tea, and sat down next to her.

“Brent filled us in on what happened last evening,” Becca said.
“Oh good. I’ve been all nerves since the task was accomplished.”
“I imagine there’s more than meets the eye with something like that. I’m willing to learn though.”

Ariel looked at Becca’s happy face, and smiled a little.

“Do you play tennis?” asked Ariel.
“I used to go to tennis camps, so I sort of know how to play,” Becca answered.
“Let’s play sometime. I’m not that competitive, especially if it’s just for fun.”
“Sounds good.”

Ariel seemed to want some alone time, so Becca left the table and continued perusing her magazine. To her surprise, Sally Rosenthal then entered the shop.

“Hi, Sally!” said Becca
“Oh, hello. How are you?”
“I’m doing fine, would you like some tea or maybe a chocolate bar or stroopwafel.”
“I’ll have a black ceylon tea and a stroopwafel,” Sally replied.

Becca was busy brewing the tea and preparing the stroopwafel.

“How was chess club?” asked Becca.
“Oh, that. I don’t think it’s for me after all. The other people in the club had been playing since they were young and I was the only one new to the game, so it was awkward, and ah, I just left without saying anything.” She laughed.
Becca smiled.
“I feel like chess is something you either get or don’t get, that is, the desire to be competitive in such a restricted setting, yet there’s so many moves that can be played, that it’s almost tedious,” said Becca.
“I agree,” said Sally, “Is that Ariel over there?”
“Yeah. I think she wants some alone time.”
“Okay. I understand.”

Becca was happy to have two members in the shop, like it was a safe haven, although in the back of her mind she thought maybe it had something to do with her presence there.

“Anyway, do you know Olivia Parks? She’s been my friend for a long time, but she’s been having issues,” Sally said.
“What kind of issues?”
“Her boyfriend broke up with her, and she made a scene, wouldn’t leave his car, and she was crying and screaming. He was dropping her off at her house, and her parents had to remove her from the car. It was a whole ordeal.”
“Sounds awful.”
“Yes. It’s like there’s a part of her that doesn’t see reason because she’s totally involved with herself and her predicaments. She wasn’t always like that, but something changed in her with the start of middle school.”
“She needs to pamper herself, like going to the spa or something. Then she’ll feel better,” Becca said. “That’s a good idea. I’ll mention it to her.”

Sally bid farewell to Becca, and got on her bike and started riding back to her house, which wasn’t too far away from the tea shop.

Linus Elbe had lived in Sweden most of his life. His parents moved the family to the United States when he was eleven. It was a culture shock at first because the town of Carlisle was so different from the suburb of Stockholm he grew up in. However, he felt like an American citizen, although he did visit Sweden from time to time with his parents. He was a short young man, straight blonde hair, and wore tortoise-shell rimmed glasses. Linus was an exemplary student and he had a keen interest in computer programming. His favorite programming language was LISP, one of the first languages produced by a man named John Mccarthy in the late 1950’s. It was regarded as an almost esoteric language, in that it was less about telling the computer to do something, but rather working from a bottom-up method, and exploring while coding. It was like embracing and finishing the embrace and letting go, then moving on to the next section. Despite being invented such a long time ago, it was still a semi-popular language.

With all his school work done, he turned to the programming project he had been working on for a few months. It was a simple turn-based game in the ‘roguelike’ genre, being inspired by the original game Rogue, which was produced in 1980 for UNIX computer systems. The graphics were all text-based, but that was one of the reasons Linus liked it. Substance over style. The roguelike genre had a depth that was missing in most modern 3d games. So he was a little weird in that he didn’t play the latest shooter online with his friends, but quietly programmed his own game that would be released for free as a computer science exercise.

He didn’t have much friends besides Ethan, Brent, and Ariel, and that was fine with him. He wasn’t sure about the new members. He knew Philip because he was Ethan’s brother. He seemed very level-headed for a freshman. Becca was optimistic which he thought the world could have more of, and he could tell Sally was oriented by her heart above all things, which required even more courage, so he respected her.

It was still a loose-knit group with not everyone knowing their purpose. He thought it was time to rectify this so he called Ethan and suggested having a bonfire with all the members. He had always liked bonfires, as one could relax and look at the fire and the conversations didn’t turn dull.

Ethan told him to call Brent to set it up at his grandfather’s house. He thought it would be better if Mr. Paulsen was there as well to clear things up. Philip gave him Sally and Becca’s phone numbers so he could set it up that evening. He called Brent, but he told him to give it a couple days as his grandfather was working on something for the new members.

That was good enough for Linus, so he went back to his computer and continued work on his programming project.

A couple days passed and each member of the group were made aware of the bonfire at the house of Brent’s grandfather. Ethan picked up the freshmen in his sedan, while Linus and Ariel had their own vehicles. The house was out in the country a few miles from town. They all arrived around the same time at 8 PM. They made their way to the back of the house where Brent and his grandfather were piling up wood to get the fire ready.

“It’s almost ready, just need a few more branches,” said Brent.

Philip went over and helped them with their task.

“Okay, it’s ready to burn.”

Brent poured some lighter fluid over the pile of wood and flung a match to get the fire going. In a few minutes they had a sizable fire.

There were lawn chairs that formed a half-circle around the fire. Everyone except Mr. Paulsen took a seat at random. He had gone inside his house to take care of something.

“So, the first week of school is over. How do the freshmen feel about the high school?” asked Linus.
Philip responded, “I’ve been enjoying it. It’s nice that I don’t have to be dropped off by my parents since Ethan has a car. And we’re a regular staple at the Country House now.”
Sally and Becca laughed.
“I really like it. Chess club didn’t work out, but I’ve been happy to meet all of you,” said Sally.
“I feel the same,” said Becca, “but I’m taking some advanced courses so the homework keeps piling up.”
“I’m taking an advanced math class, but you don’t hear me bragging,” joked Philip.
“Oh shut it,” She responded.
“Becca, I was told you’re originally from Belgium, is that correct?” asked Linus.
“My parents immigrated here and then had me, so I was born an American citizen.”
“I see. I was born in Sweden and moved here when I was eleven. The contrast between the cultures are quite different.”
“Yes, I’ve visited Belgium and it’s definitely different over in Europe. But I wouldn’t want to move there. Carlisle is boring sometimes but it has its charms.” Becca said.
“You know, I do miss Sweden sometimes, but you’re right about the charming nature of this town.”
Ariel joined the conversation,“Becca, that chamomile really did the trick a couple days ago. I’ll have to buy a bag next time I’m in the shop.”
“Definitely. Did you know there are two types of chamomile? Egyptian and German. The German one has superior health benefits so that’s what we sell.”
“Interesting. It really did help me, so thanks.”
“No problem at all!” Becca said.

Linus was happy to see his plan on integrating the new members working. Ethan had remained silent for some time, which was alright with Linus, as he thought the fire attracted introspective thoughts.

“Brent, can you show me to the restroom.” said Ethan.
“No problem.”

They left and the other members continued chatting about this and that. Eventually, Brent and Ethan came back, and following them was Mr. Paulsen carrying a container. He laid it on the ground, and started taking out wooden boxes similar to the one Ariel had the evening she communicated with the templar. He gave a box to each of the freshmen.

“Don’t open them yet,” he said, as Philip was fiddling with the opening mechanism.
“There are enchanted items within,” he continued, “and I think it best to give an explanation as to why you were chosen for them. First, though, I’d like you to meet my friend, Jivat.”

A short, balding man of dubious ethnicity entered from the garden next to the house. He seemed normal except for a single horn growing out of the right front of his skull. His gait was that of a man who was used to sitting in the meditation posture, and almost seemed painful to have to walk.

“Yes, yes. I’m the local hermit with a horn growing out of his skull,” he said.
“How are you, Jivat?” asked Brent.
“Couldn’t be better. I should clear things up. I’m not a mythical beast. This horn is actually a skeletal growth. A woman in China has the exact same thing, and she’s 103 years old, so I’m hoping it’s my link to longevity.” He smiled at them.

“I think it suits you,” said Becca, smiling back.

Jivat let out an odd little laugh, “I haven’t been in a suit in years.”

They all welcomed him to the bonfire, and Mr. Paulsen brought out two more chairs for him and Jivat.

“Jivat is my close friend, and he helps me source key materials for my glasswork. There’s more to Carlisle than meets the eye. It may seem like a typical town, but strange things lurk about, as well as rare minerals.”

Then Sally spoke up, “Where are you from, Jivat, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I was born in Burma, now called Myanmar, but that was a long time ago. I’ve been in Carlisle for almost forty years, I think.”
“Oh, I happened to look up Myanmar on the web recently. The temples of Bagan look truly fascinating. Are you a Buddhist?”
“I used to be. Everyone in Burma was a Buddhist. I don’t know what to make of organized religions these days. I just keep to myself and mind my own business.”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” said Sally, her face becoming flushed as though she had offended him.
“Oh, nonsense. I don’t get a lot of chances to talk to youngsters. In my experience, they always bring with them their own unique wisdom. But you aren’t juveniles. You’re young men and women, and you probably know how to adjust to life’s circumstances using your own cunning.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” remarked Mr. Paulsen.
“Sally, go ahead and open the box, if you feel like it. The latch mechanism is a little tricky. It’s securely fastened, but doesn’t open with strength, but rather it’s best to use a light touch.”

She opened it after fiddling with the mechanism a little bit. Inside the padded interior was a multi-colored lotus flower. She brought it out to look at it closer in the light of the fire.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Thank you. It should serve you well in your endeavors,” said Mr. Paulsen, “Becca, How about you open yours next.”
“Okay.”

With a light touch she immediately opened the box and brought out what looked like a nautilus shell. It was dark blue with gold and silver details in the crevices.

“Interesting,” she said.
“Have you heard of the Fibonacci sequence?” asked Mr. Paulsen.
“I have, actually. It’s an exponential spiral design found throughout nature, although nothing is perfect so there’s no guarantee that it would follow that design.”
“That was one of my more difficult works, but it should be of use to you.”
Becca smiled and thanked him.

“And Philip, go ahead and open yours.”

He struggled a little with the latch, but after a few calm breaths, he managed to open the box. Inside was a black four-sided pyramid. He held it up to the light of the fire and he saw that there were shades of blue and grey swirled about it, as well.

“Does this have something to do with Egypt?” Philip asked.
“It’s up to you to make that connection. It came to me in a vision, and so I crafted it.” “Okay.”

Ethan looked at his brother thoughtfully and said, “It’s a fine piece of craftsmenship. You’ll figure out what to do with it. We all do, though it can take some time. It took me a year to really grasp the essence of mine.”

Philip nodded and stared at the object in the light of the fire.

“So, there we have it,” said Mr. Paulsen, “each member has an enchanted item, not to be taken lightly. I expect the older members to help out the new ones with their expertise.”

Brent got out of his chair and poured water on the fire from a pitcher. He said, “One last thing. These items should be kept secret and safe, otherwise you would do my grandfather a disservice for all the work he has put into this. Life will change for you. It will become strange. Like Jivat said, you must use your own cunning and intelligence. But know that there are people here that support you.”

Mr. Paulsen stood up from his chair. “Also, to make it easier to share and discuss, we’ve decided to call the items Mana Products, or MPs for short.”

With that, everyone but Brent, Jivat, and Mr. Paulsen took their leave.

“What do you guys think?” asked Brent.
“That things are coming together, whether we’re ready for it or not,” said his grandfather.
“I’m just a lowly hermit, but I say we must be ready for anything,” said Jivat.\

Installment Three

Philip was already making progress with his pyramid MP. He hadn’t accessed anything metaphysical in it, but focusing on the object seemed to ground him, where he felt like he was in control of his body again. He still felt the embarrassment of peeing his pants in public, but the MP was a comfort to him, with its dark properties. He had an epiphany that his mind had been divorced from his body in a way. He had put on a mask of level-headedness, but his head had been in the clouds, when it should have been securely fastened to the rest of his body. Holding the pyramid up to the lamp in his room, he noticed the blue and gray swirls, as if within the dark object there was the potential for further elaboration.

It had been a couple weeks since the bonfire at Mr. Paulsen’s house. School-work kept him busy, but he also had time to hang out with some of his friends from middle school. It felt strange because it was as if he was living two lives. He found that he couldn’t really connect with them as he once did. He felt more comfortable when he was with the members of the group because they shared a common cause, although it was still uncertain what that was. Whereas his other friends were caught up in the goings-on of pop culture and the like.

Philip tried cradling the pyramid as he saw Ariel doing on the night of resting the templar. Nothing happened. He didn’t know what to concentrate on or even think about generally. Then he remembered her closing her hands over her MP and closing her eyes, so he tried that. Immediately he felt a calming sensation, and gravity pulling him toward the ground. The energy was in his feet, so he curled them like a monkey would do on a tree branch. This brought immense relief. He opened his eyes. At the top point of his skull, he felt a warming sensation, and he let it wash over him. He wondered if this was the pyramid’s main purpose. In his relief, he felt it would be okay if that was all it did. However, he had a feeling there was more to it than that, and it was up to him to explore further.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. He put the pyramid in the wooden box and went to open the door. It was his mother.
“Hi there. You’ve been locked in your room for hours. Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes. I just have a bunch of homework I’m catching up on,” Philip lied.
“Oh okay. I won’t bother you.”

She crept back downstairs, leaving Philip feeling guilty. He wasn’t as close with his parents as he once had been. Part of it had to due with their marriage itself, which was always a little rocky, sometimes arguing loudly in their bedroom. He chose to ignore it for the most part because he had his own concerns to take care of. His views on marriage were that too many people got involved based on appearance and the masks they portrayed to each other, not digging deep enough behind the layers to discern if the person was the right match for dating, let alone marriage. They wanted the wedding party, the attention, the illusion that they were somehow making it in society, and then they had kids, and their kids would be brought up the same way, and it was just a mess of bad marriages and divorce. His views were pessimistic to say the least. Philip believed you needed to trust a higher power to guide you to the right partner. He saw the hubris of others, and wondered at their psychology, because who were they in comparison to the wider world, and the infinite expanse of the universe? And who was he? Feeling grounded from the pyramid, his perspective about his role in the large scheme of things had changed. He felt small, but also that he could do some good in the community. He felt that he had been selfish, and still, looking in the mirror, it was an ugly mask, but he didn’t want to be rid of it, but rather, to transform it into something pleasing to others, to live and act in a genuine manner.

Philip wondered if Ethan could tell him anything about what he experienced with his Mana Product. He went across the hall and knocked on his door.

“One second,” said Ethan.

Philip waited for a bit until Ethan opened the door.

“Oh, it’s you. What’s up?”
“I had a question about my MP,” Philip whispered.
“Okay. Come in, I was just putting mine away.”

They entered the room, which was messy as usual.

“What is your MP, by the way? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all.”

He went over to his closet and brought out the same wooden box that the others had. He opened it and inside was a realistic looking stag beetle with black on the center part of outer casing, and burnt orange on the sides.

“That must have taken some effort to make.”
“Yeah.” said Ethan.
“So, what can you do with it?” asked Philip.
“I wish I could tell you now, but I think it’s better to wait a little. I’ll show you eventually.”
“Fine. Well I was going to tell you about my pyramid, but if it’s better to keep things to ourselves, I don’t know,” Philip said.
“I know the new members are excited, but we were warned to keep things low-key. If you have questions, you can ask Mr. Paulsen or Jivat.”
“I think Jivat may be able to help me actually. Can we see him?”
“I’ll call him and see if we can go to his house for dinner or something. He helped me a number of times with my beetle,” Ethan said.

Ethan called Jivat’s house and Jivat was more than happy to have guests that evening. He said to ask the others if they wanted to come as well, but only Sally was able to say she could. So they told their parents they were going to a friend’s house for dinner, not mentioning their friend was a horned, sixty-year old hermit. They picked up Sally from her house and drove a little farther out in the country than Mr. Paulsen and Brent’s house, until they reached the gravel driveway of Jivat’s small one-bedroom house. Around the house were all kinds of exotic plants, herbs, and fruits and vegetables.

“What a gorgeous garden!” exclaimed Sally upon arrival.
“Yes, get ready for a good meal,” said Ethan.

They knocked on Jivat’s door, and he answered immediately with a smile on his face.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said.

They entered and inside was a well kept home, with few decorations and a meditation pillow, a padded chair, and some nice wooden furniture. Philip noticed he didn’t have a television, but there were paintings of the Buddha around the house, some abstract paintings, and surprisingly, a painting of Jesus Christ carrying a lamb in his dining area.

“That’s a nice painting,” Philip said, pointing at the Jesus.
“Yes, it’s a Greek icon. I feel like they get the face right, as opposed to some of the white-washed paintings I’ve seen.”
“We’re Lutheran, so we get it. Martin Luther once said the the Orthodox church was the most Christian. Whatever “the most” is supposed to mean,” said Ethan.
Sally examined the face. “He has a middle-eastern look to him, he’s serious and composed, and he cares for the lamb. The sacrificial lamb.”
“Great apprehension, Sally,” said Jivat, “All of the paintings around the house have a deeper meaning.”

Sally wandered around, looking at the various Buddhist and abstract paintings. Jivat started preparing dinner. He was making a Burmese salad and a medicinal mango curry with naan bread.

“I like this painting of the Buddha holding a flower,” Sally said.
“Yes, it’s a representation of the Puppha Vagga Sutta, or the Flower Sutta. A famous buddhist text.” replied Jivat from the kitchen.
“Who are those surrounding him?”
“Disciples and laypersons. Do you have an interest in Buddhism? I would warn you that some religions clash even when it comes to reading alternative material.”
“I’m a Christian, but I go to a non-denominational church, so we’re very tolerant of other religions,” said Sally.
“Great. I think I have the sutta lying around here somewhere. It’s short. I can read it now if you like,” said Jivat.
“That would be wonderful.”

Jivat rummaged around in his kitchen drawers until he found a single piece of paper. He began to read from it.

“Who will overcome this earth? Who will overcome this plane of misery? Who will overcome this world with its gods? Who will realize the well-taught words of the Dhamma, as an expert garland maker selects beautiful flowers?

The trainee in the Dhamma path will overcome this earth. He will overcome the plane of misery. He will overcome this world with its gods. The trainee will realize the well-taught words of the Dhamma, as an expert garland maker selects beautiful flowers.

Understanding that this body is fragile like foam, realizing life’s mirage-like nature, cutting off Māra’s flowers of defilements, go beyond the sight of Māra!

The person obsessed by sense pleasures chases after them as a garland maker searches for flowers. Māra carries away that person to the plane of misery like a great flood sweeps away a sleeping village.

The person obsessed by sense pleasures chases after them as a garland maker searches for flowers. Although he has not fully satisfied himself with sense pleasures, Māra brings him under his control.

As a bee gathers nectar from the flower and flies away without harming the flower’s beauty or its fragrance, just so the sage goes on his alms round in the village.

Do not consider what is false in what others say or what they have or have not done. Consider instead what you have or have not done.

A beautiful flower that is colourful but without fragrance is not perfect. In the same way, the well spoken-words of the Buddha become fruitless for the person who does not practice them.

A beautiful flower that is colourful and also fragrant is perfect. In the same way, the well-spoken words of the Buddha become fruitful for the person who practices them.

As an expert garland maker makes many garlands from a heap of flowers, you who obtained the human life should do many wholesome deeds.

The scent of flowers does not go against the wind. The scent of sandalwood, jasmine, and rosebay does not go against the wind. But the scent of a grateful person does travel against the wind. The scent of his virtues spreads in all directions.

Of all the fragrances—sandalwood, rosebay, water lily, and jasmine—the fragrance of virtue is the sweetest.

Slight is the scent of rosebay or sandalwood, but the scent of the virtuous is supreme, drifting even to heaven.

The liberated ones are virtuous and practice the Dhamma diligently. They are freed from suffering by the realization of the Noble Truths. Māra never finds the path by which they are liberated.

In the roadside ditch, in a heap of rubbish, blooms a lotus, sweet smelling and pleasing to the eyes.

In the same way, among the rubbish heap of unaware ordinary people, the disciple of the Supreme Buddha shines brightly with wisdom.”

He stopped reading, and closed his eyes thoughtfully. Sally wanted to hug him. “That was very beautiful, Jivat,” she said.

After looking at a few more paintings, she went over to the kitchen table, where Ethan and Philip were whispering about something.
“Just ask him,” said Ethan.
“I’ll wait until dinner is over,” replied Philip.
“And what are you two gossiping about?” asked Sally.
“I had some personal questions I wanted to ask Jivat about my MP.”
“Oh, I forgot we were calling them that. I’m still unsure about mine.” She said.
“You’ll get there,” said Ethan.
“I guess.”

Jivat asked them to take a seat as he brought over the plates of dinner.

“Enjoy,” said Jivat.

They started their meal, discussing trivial matters like the humid weather, their school studies, and extracurricular activities. Sally told Jivat about her chess club failure.

“Yes, it’s not a game for everybody. It requires a certain mindset.”

Out of curiosity and concern, Sally brought up Jivat’s skeletal growth.

“Are you sure it’s safe to have that?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve been to the doctor about it, and they said they could remove it or let it be, that it ultimately was up to me. I didn’t want to deal with any complications during surgery and I have a phobia of surgery anyway so I’m just living with it.” Jivat answered.
“Okay,” said Sally, not entirely convinced.

They finished their dinner, and Philip asked to speak with Jivat in private. They went into the back garden, which was set up in an organized way in which the ecosystem was such that every plant, herb, vegetable, and fruit plants contributed to something else in the garden. There were streams of water throughout and a small pond. Jivat said it was called permaculture, something he learned from a book by a German farmer. They went and sat on two wooden chairs on the back porch.

“So what is it you wanted to ask me?” queried Jivat.
“It’s about my MP. I felt something when I enclosed it with my hands. It was like it grounded me, and then I felt a sensation on the top of my head that felt unnatural, but soothing.”
“Your pyramid, it has a square base, correct?”
“Yes,” answered Philip.
“A square in many cultures represents stability. Take for example the Tibetan Buddhist mandalas. They are in the form of a square, and then look like a fortress or temple. It’s a mystery to me, but Tibetans are known for their stability in the face of inhospitable environments. If you’re interested in sacred geometry, I would recommend looking into the yantras of ancient India as well. Now the feeling at the top of your head is curious. Just as the pyramid has a single point at the top, the human body has a point on the skull known as Adhipati, which translates to lordship. This is again from ancient Indian sources. Ayurvedic medicine to be precise.”
“Interesting. I’ll have to look into that,” said Philip.
“Do you have any further questions?” asked Jivat.
“Well those are interesting comparisons, but what exactly am I supposed to do with my MP?”
“Just focus on the way it makes you feel, and explore from there.”
“Okay,” said Philip.
“Now, it’s getting late, and I don’t mean to kick you all out, but I’m tired and I’m an early bird.” “Of course. Thank you for the meal and conversation.”
“Anytime.”

It was late at night and Philip was in his bedroom researching mandalas and yantras on the web. It was a bit over his head. He was a Lutheran, so it all seemed alien to him. He once again enclosed the pyramid with his hands, and the grounding sensation engulfed him. He focused on the point at the top of his skull, and he felt in control of his body. Adhipati translates to lordship. He didn’t feel like a lord, in fact, he was taught there was only one Lord above all, and he still believed it. He prayed. He recalled from his Sunday school lessons that God knows what’s in your heart and mind, so he wordlessly acknowledged it, and he let it be. He quietly said the Lord’s prayer, and started to put his MP back into the wooden box, but something stopped him.

He heard a voice.

“You know, you don’t have to clutch at that object so strenuously. Just put it in your left hand and cover it with your right hand.”

He looked around. He didn’t see anyone, but he did as he was told. The MP started to glow faintly, and the blue and gray swirls in the pyramid started to move around. In front of him was a form that he could only describe as a spirit.

“Are you going to hurt me?” asked Philip.
“Ofcourse not. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I thought I could be of some help.”

The spirit was in the form of a small man without any substance to him, that is, he was a misty figure in blue and grey, without the reproductive and digestive and whatever else organs that made you human.

“Do you have a name?” asked Philip.
“Lucretius,” He replied, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m what’s called a wandering spirit. There are many of us, and you will encounter many more.”
“For what purpose?”
“You will learn in time. Think of me as a tutor. I’ll try not to startle you again. Are you okay?” asked Lucretius.
“Yes, just a little out of sorts. I’ve been researching and just trying to understand what I’ve been given.”
“You know, the others don’t take it as seriously as you do, so I commend you for that.”

Philip sighed.

“You’re tired. Get some sleep. Remember, the base of the pyramid is in the left hand and the right covers it.”
“Okay, thank you.”

With that, he disappeared in a mist.